It's having stripped everything off of the mattress when you got out of it in the morning and thrown it all in the washing machine. It's waiting that hour and then throwing the damp lump into the dryer. It's then forgetting that you did any of it and someone else remembering that you had, putting it all back on the mattress, with smoothed out middle and tight corners. It's having a bear of a day, where there was little good to go around. It's trudging home with a cloud of something inside of you.

It's sitting in that car and getting disgusted with yourself that you can't think of a thing that you might want for dinner that night. It's just not feeling like doing anything, but then seeing that the lawn is getting overrun with dandelions crowning tall over all those blades of grass - knowing that you're going to have to mow. It's realizing that not only can you think of little that might be appetizing for dinner, but you don't have a damned thing in the house and the last thing you want to do is make a run to the store. It's sitting like a slob on the couch all night, getting to the end of it and realizing that you wasted the whole goddamned thing for a bunch of pointless television.

But then, you get up to that bed, which you'd left bare earlier that morning and you find yourself overjoyed by what's before you. It's a spectacle. You peel the covers back and a cool wafting puffs out. Your legs feel different as they slide against the friction of the two fresh sheets. You're immediately overcome with a soothing thought that you're going to sleep well that night. The music of Brian Harding and Amaliee Bruun of Brooklyn band Ex Cops, is a lot like this. While there are smoldering issues and problems that need to be dealt with, they take us into beautiful dark, summer rooms where there is an evident calming factor that will help us all with these things that ail us.